Determined
by infie
Summary: T'Pol offers Trip what refuge she can. Spoilers: final ep.


**Determined**

* * *

She knew the instant it happened.

Before the captain's hoarse voice bellowed over the communications system, before the red alert klaxon wailed, she knew. It was as though the many years ignoring their connection had vanished, and the bond flared back to life with an astonishing and brutal strength that drove her to one knee. A fierce burst of someone else's defiance burned through her with white-hot intensity, forcing a moan from her throat.

She was on her feet and running through the ship corridor, her only thought to get there. As she tore past the door to Engineering, a flash of raw pain cracked through her mind. T'Pol stopped, one hand lifting reflexively to the wall. Her sides heaved as the compulsion released, leaving behind only a stark blackness she had never felt before, even before they were linked. She blinked at the grey-toned wall, swallowed hard, spun on one heel and walked away from where they had taken him. She went instead to where she was needed.

Disorientation robbed her of her usual firm stride, and it took her two tries to enter the door of her quarters without striking the frame. She looked around, hunting for what she would need to regain her balance. A few moments' searching found everything, and she laid the items out with exaggerated precision. The cold, dark place in her mind throbbed in time with her pulse.

The light of her meditation candle burned far more steadily than she felt. Lighting it took a significant effort as her hand shook and the taper waved around the wick before finally setting it aflame. T'Pol sat with deliberate care and little of her usual grace. She took a deep breath, fixing her gaze on the clean, pure light of the candle. As her eyes drifted shut, her mind opened.

"Huh." The careless drawl came softly behind her, if direction had any meaning in the comforting darkness of meditation. She 'turned', realizing with a distant part of her mind that the cold place was gone. She concentrated. A faint light grew around her, lessening the feeling of enclosure and revealing a disheveled Trip looking around with poorly concealed wonder. He blinked uncertainly. "Uh, T'Pol?"

"Yes." She answered him aloud. The light grew brighter, delineated the familiar shapes of the furniture in her quarters. Trip wandered over to the table, lifted a brightly patterned scarf that had never seen real life and dangled it from his forefinger.

"I hadn't expected such… disarray." The smirk in his voice – and on his face – had its usual irritating effect.

"I wasn't expecting anyone." She snatched it from him and stuffed it under her meditation mat. "I don't exactly have a lot of visitors here."

"Where is here, anyway? I mean, I recognize your quarters, but wasn't I just…" He frowned. "Wasn't I just…" His face changed, hardened. "T'Pol."

"Yes." She struggled for the calm in the centre of her thoughts.

"Why am I here? Why aren't I with the captain?" His eyes closed as he fought to remember. "Why aren't I in sickbay?" He held out his hands, examined them as if they belonged to someone else.

"You are in sickbay." She was obscurely proud of the even tone of her voice. "The doctor is working on you right now."

Trip turned away, looked around the room. "Then how?" His eyes opened wide and he glared at her accusingly. "You hijacked me!"

"Hardly. You called me. I simply… answered your hail."

"Well, it's time to shut down this communications channel, then," he said firmly. "I want to go back, talk to the captain."

"Then go." She gestured at the door to her quarters. "You know the way."

He strode to the door, stopped in front of it. He didn't turn back to look at her, and she was grateful he couldn't see the look on her face. "How did I call you?" He shifted his weight uncomfortably, still looking at the door. "We haven't been in each other's heads in years."

"Perhaps…" She licked her lips. "Perhaps we simply were not listening."

The door slid open and he was gone.

T'Pol retreated back to meditation. A warmth at the back of her mind where that frightening cold place had been told her that the link was still active. The feeling had been there for so long that she'd disregarded its presence as completely as she did the presence of her nose. It was just… there.

The thought of it not being there any more was intensely… disturbing.

T'Pol rose unsteadily to her feet, walked to the communications panel on the wall. Her hand hesitated over the button before she straightened her shoulders and pressed firmly.

"What?" Phlox snapped over the comm.

"How is Commander Tucker, Doctor?"

"His lungs are all but vaporized, Commander." Phlox said curtly. In the background there were the sounds of hissing gasses. T'pol remained silent. When he spoke again, his voice had softened. "We've placed him in a hyperbaric chamber. It may produce enough positive pressure to keep oxygen in his bloodstream." Phlox said, and she could hear the frustration and sympathy entwined in his voice. "We need to be prepared. The outcome does not look good."

"Thank you, Doctor." T'Pol thumbed off the switch, mentally debated making her way to Sick Bay, and discarded the idea. Instead, she stalked the perimeter of her quarters with restless strides, her eyes returning over and over to the beckoning candle. Each time she turned resolutely away.

"T'Pol." It was a whisper, a soft tapping at the back of her mind.

She slid to her knees in front of the candle hastily, barely needing to focus on the light before she was back in the quarters of her mind. Even as the edges of the room formed, Trip stepped through the door. He looked haggard, as if his skin was drawn too tightly over the bones underneath. He dropped to the floor beside the low table and crossed his legs into a pose that looked almost comfortable. "You came back," she said unnecessarily.

"Got bored." He looked around casually. "Figured this place was a better hang out than the inside of that chamber." He shrugged. "It doesn't hurt here like it does back there." He looked down at his wrinkled but clean clothes. "And the fashions are better."

"Sounds like a very logical decision."

Trip snorted. "Now, why'd you go and say that? Now I'm thinkin' I should be heading back to my own head again."

"No!" Trip stared at her, surprised at the vehemence in her voice. She looked away, thinking fast. Nothing came to mind, so she went for the unexpected… the truth. "I do not want you to leave."

Trip leaned back, one eyebrow raised in mock amazement. "That has to be a first."

Her lips tightened, but she continued. "I have never wanted you to leave. Perhaps that is why I worked so hard to make it happen." He watched her, unblinking. "I told you so once before, that I wanted you to stay. You told me that what was between us was not a 'big deal', if I recall correctly." The flicker of hurt surprised her. "The years have not changed my… feelings. I still do not want you to leave."

"I don't want to go. Never did." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, sticking it up in tiny soft spikes. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth and he echoed her wryly, "Perhaps that is why I kept leaving."

Her lips twitched, betraying her amusement. His smile widened into an open grin that suddenly faltered as he reran the conversation in his mind. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

The starkness of the question stole her breath. "Yes."

He closed his eyes, rested his head on his forearms set against the edge of the low table. "I knew it," he muttered. "I always said you'd only ever be completely up front with me over my dead body."

T'Pol pushed away from the table and stood. "That is not funny." She opened her eyes, returned to her quarters. Her real quarters, that is.

"T'Pol." Again, that gentle push at the back of her mind. Like a single finger, prodding lightly from that warm presence. "T'Pol." The nudge was slightly more insistent. "T'Pol!" There was an outright poke this time. Stubbornly she refused to acknowledge him. The presence retreated and she could feel him considering. Suddenly there was a stab of panic, and the pressure disappeared.

"Trip!" She dove back into the realm of her mind, reaching for that tiny sliver of him frantically. "Trip!"

"Hold yer horses, I'm here." He 'stepped' into focus with an irritating grin on his face. "I knew you'd come back." The flood of relief was immediately followed by a stab of rage. She glared at him with real fury. He stepped back in shock. "Hey…"

"Commander." She sought the familiar distance of formality and worked to drive the anger back under its iron cover of control. The stiffness in her tone betrayed her. "Please refrain from playing games. At least…" She swallowed, hard, "from that particular one."

He moved to the bed and sat heavily. "I'm sorry," he said with disarming sincerity. "That was mean of me."

She sat beside him, not quite touching. "I am curious. Why did you come back?"

He shifted a little uncomfortably. "I didn't want to be alone." She nodded without looking at him. "Ok, ok. I wanted to be with you, but you sure don't make it easy."

"I don't make it easy!" Her voice rose indignantly. "You're the one…" She caught the sly grin playing around his mouth and stopped. "You are trying to make me feel better." She sounded surprised.

"Maybe." The smirk became a full-fledged grin. "Maybe I just like to watch you get all riled up."

"I do not get 'riled up'."

"Of course not," he said, deadpan. "You're a Vulcan."

"Not so much as I once was." She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. "You have been… good for me."

"Well, thank you." He thought a moment then nodded decisively. "I do believe that was a compliment."

"Perceptive, as always."

"Yeah, well." He stood and began to pace. "Do we have to stay here?" He shot her a quick, almost embarrassed look. "I appreciate you having me and all, but…"

"You wish to go to Engineering." His sheepish smile confirmed it. She focused a moment, and the air around them darkened to black. When the light slowly returned, they were standing beside the warp engines. Trip raised his hand and caressed the smooth metal.

"How long do I have?" She lifted a quizzical eyebrow at the question. "Until I… Until I'm gone."

"I do not know," she said honestly. "You were severely injured. Doctor Phlox said that your lungs were all but vaporized." Trip winced, a hand moving reflexively to his chest. "I have been monitoring your strength. You are weakening." She fought back her own reaction to the realization. "I will not be able to hold you here for long. Perhaps only minutes."

Trip walked the length of the engine, trailing his hand along the clean contours. "The best memories of my life are right here," he said softly. A moment later, his lips curved into a smile. "Well, almost all of them."

"Many of mine, as well," T'Pol said, though her eyes never left his form as he wandered through the room. He completed the circuit, his hand rubbing at his chest absently. Suddenly he winced and doubled over. "I am sorry," T'Pol focused more firmly and he straightened. "It is becoming harder to mask the pain." She could feel her face tighten with strain.

"I don't wanna go." Trip returned to stand in front of her. "I can feel it, pullin' on me." She nodded. He looked her full in the eyes, staring as if he could sense the details of her thoughts if he only tried hard enough. If she relaxed, he could… She lifted her hand to his cheek, curved her palm to fit his face.

"I don't want you to leave. But I will not be able to keep you here." His eyes widened at the unhidden grief in her voice. "I always thought I had more time. And now there is none left." She released her control, showed him her hurt.

He blinked. Suddenly, for the first time since their connection had returned, he let go and allowed her to sense what he was feeling. Rage, regret, fear… something else… "T'Pol," he said roughly, "I shoulda done things differently." His accent thickened. "When I transferred back to Enterprise, I was wrong to say what I did. Then I convinced myself that there was nothing else here anyway." His gesture made it clear he didn't mean Engineering. "I haven't even said 'thank you' for being with me, here, now."

Tentatively she leaned close, placed her hands on his chest, unsure of her welcome. He gathered her into his arms unhesitatingly, fitting her tightly against the contours of his body. "I'm going to miss you," she said, closing her eyes.

"Don't worry," his voice was muffled as he buried his face in her hair. "It's like I told you before… the missing goes away with time. It will for this, too." His arms suddenly felt less substantial. She drew her head back in alarm, searching his face with her gaze. It was more drawn than before, and the smile he gave her was sweet but strained. He leaned forward, whispered in her ear. She nodded once, then turned her head and captured his mouth with hers. For an instant he was solid and responsive beneath her hands, kissing her with desperation; the next he was gone.

Her breath gasped out and she dropped to her knees, hands wrapped around her waist as she struggled with the desolate sense of loss. Engineering faded out around her, taking the warm presence with it and leaving an icy bleakness worse by far than before. Never had the darkness of meditation felt so much like being alone.

The steadily burning candle came back into view as her eyes slipped open. She concentrated on its soothing light, seeking the cold comfort of rational focus. When her communication panel chimed softly she ignored it.

She already knew.


End file.
